Turnabout
by SiriusFan13
Summary: For months now, Ushiro has been trying to get inside Battousai's head to help the kid out. He gets more than he bargained for when a night of drinking causes Ushiro and Battousai to switch bodies. How can they switch back? 'Freaky Friday' in Bakumatsu!
1. Chapter 1

**Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Kenshin. Wish I did, because if so, then Jinchuu would have been animated by now... (hint, hint to the powers that be...)

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**Turnabout**

**By: SiriusFan13

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_As the saying goes... turnabout is fair play...

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**Chapter 1**

**_Ushiro_  
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I woke late that morning with a terrible headache. Sunlight streamed through the window that I'd brilliantly left open in my drunken stupor the night before. God only knew what I'd been thinking. _I_ sure as hell didn't. Actually, I had a feeling that I wouldn't _want_ to know what, if anything, had been going through my mind before I'd passed out.

I sighed deeply. Last night had been a stupid plan, if one could actually call it a plan. I didn't drink often... Well, that wasn't entirely true. I drank as often as anyone else. But not excessively. Certainly nothing that wasn't fitting my station. I'd share sake with friends. Occasionally I'd drink to calm my nerves. But I didn't like getting drunk. I'd learned to stretch the time I took on one cup to last two or three drinks of my comrades.

It wasn't just a personal preference either. This was practicality. I'd had a terrible temper in my younger days. I'd been foolish and dangerous, and alcohol had only worsened that. Truth be told, I was _still_ too easy to anger. But I'd learned to control it. Was good enough at it that most people didn't even realize that I _had_ much of a temper. However, I didn't trust my hard-earned control in the face of the freeing power of alcohol. Someone could get hurt.

And if it were Kenshin and I getting drunk together, then that someone would probably wind up being me. I had a habit of opening my idiot mouth while drinking. And I had no idea how _Kenshin _responded to too much sake.

_God, Katsura's going to kill me for this._

I forced that thought from my mind, already _knowing _that last night had been a stupid decision, and finding no need to torture myself over something that could no longer be helped. Anyway, I had realized how stupid it was when I'd made the choice. But at the time I'd felt like I had to do something to help Kenshin, and drinking was all that would come to mind. I've probably been spending too much time around Kano. How else would I have come up with such a brilliant idea?

Last night, Kenshin and I had survived a failed run. Our charge had been badly injured and we had been forced to bring him back to base, unsure if he was even going to survive. I was angry about it. We both were. But, unfortunately, these things happened, and, upset though I was, I was used to it. In fact, it was usually _me_ who wound up being the injured one.

Other than a concern for the man's life, the situation should have been dropped as soon as we'd reported to Katsura. But for some reason Kenshin had taken this injury worse than usual. At first the kid had been fine. We'd gone to see the doctor immediately after Katsura had dismissed us. Had both been relieved when the doctor had said that he would live. Kenshin had been fine. Until our charge had begun, in his pained delirium, speaking of the fiancee he had waiting for him back home.

That was all it had taken. Kenshin's entire demeanor had abruptly changed. He'd gone from wearing his usual expressionless mask to looking as though he were going to be sick. He'd immediately excused himself, probably so no one would see the change in his eyes. But _I'd_ certainly noticed and had followed him into the hall, demanding that he tell me what was wrong.

He'd coldly distanced himself, refusing to answer me. Simply stating that he was fine and would retire to his room. Reminding me that I had my own injuries to treat. Again.

I hadn't been willing leaving him alone like that. Something wasn't right in his eyes. Or in his ki. He hadn't even looked like he was really seeing me as he spoke. For the first time, I was afraid of what he might do if left alone to his thoughts. This whole mess had brought about that distant expression that I'd learned to expect whenever he'd touch the scar on his cheek. And I'd never liked the empty feeling that seemed to come with that look.

So, rather than leave him in peace like any sane person would have done, I'd invited him to drink with me last night. Then I'd demanded. After several refusals, and an irritated flash to his eyes, I finally managed to convince him to join me, implying that _I_ needed the alcohol, and that I did stupid things when I was drinking alone. He'd believed _that_ a bit too easily for my liking, but at least he finally agreed, more to babysit me, I'm sure, than to join in. In fact, it had taken forever to get him to drink with me at all, and by the time he'd finally started, I'd already downed a fair share myself.

The night became fuzzy after that. I honestly didn't even remember going back to my room. And I sure as hell couldn't figure out what had possessed me to open the damn window.

I cracked my eye open to check it out. Sunlight streamed into my room, blinding my already sensitive eyes.

Cursing my idiocy, I moaned and buried my face in my hands.

At the touch of my hands, I froze, all thoughts of pain and nausea pushed to the back of my mind as I tentatively ran my hands over my face again, tracing my finger down an unfamiliar mar in my skin. My eyes flew open.

_What the hell?_

I'd been injured hundreds of times since I'd left Tosa. Especially since I'd started working with Kenshin. I knew that I was covered in scars. But I'd never had any on my face before. What had I _done_ last night? Had I been stupid enough to start something while both of us had been drunk?

I hauled myself to my feet, using the wall to keep steady as I stumbled forward a step. My head pounded worse with the sudden change in elevation, and I remained still a moment to regain my bearings. Apparently the sake was still working its magic. Fantastic. And now that I was standing, the sun was shining directly into my eyes. Even better.

Damn sun. Damn window. Damn sake.

_Damn idiot_, I thought to myself. _Let's put blame where it belongs, Ryu..._

I touched my face again, then withdrew my hand, studying it. Yeah, I was definitely injured, but even in my fuzzy mental state, I found it odd that even with no bandage, there was also no blood. The cut felt... old. As though it had somehow already healed over. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it had initially seemed? I was going to have to get dressed and talk with Kenshin. See if he could tell me what I'd done. I pushed myself from the wall, my legs and back stiff from sleeping against it. _Wait... what happened to my futon? _Had I been so drunk that I couldn't even handle a futon? I was really starting to hope that it had only been Kenshin and I in the room. Otherwise, I'd be hearing about this one stupid night for weeks.

I stretched, brushing some loose hair from my face. Had to take care of that, too. I probably looked like hell. It took me awhile to find my comb. It wasn't where I usually put it. After finally digging it out of a chest, I let my hair free from the topknot I'd left it in last night, prepared to comb out a mass of tangles.

I wasn't, however, prepared for the strands of hair that dropped into my eyes, free from their binding. I pulled a lock to dangle it in front of my face, scrutinizing it.

Red.

_What?_ If I hadn't been so hungover, I probably would have started putting things together by then. But my mental faculties weren't at their best, and instead I wound up trying to _rationalize_ my brand new scars and red hair.

Because things like that could be figured out _logically_... I'm a baka sometimes.

I began pacing, my habit whenever things became too much to handle. _I probably got drunk and pissed off Kenshin. That has to be it. __I pissed him off and wound up with a gash on my face... Which apparently healed up at an unnatural speed..._ I pushed that crazy thought from my mind. I also chose to ignore the obvious problem that Kenshin wasn't a naturally violent person. I was too busy trying to rationalize the red hair.

Had I been a real ass to him last night? Teased him about his looks or something stupid enough to put him into such a malicious mood that he had dyed _my _hair to match his while I slept? It was possible, I supposed... Alcohol could turn a man into an entirely different person sometimes...

But had something like that really been necessary...?

_That little shit, _I thought, though I think I was more amused than anything. Maybe a little angry, but I quickly stifled my irritation, realizing that such comments were best left in my head. _Maybe I should sober up a bit more before talking to him._

So, I'd probably just pissed him off. Reasonable. I paused in my pacing, considering. And then he'd somehow managed to pull this off without waking me up. All the while drunk, himself.

_Yeah, right..._

It was ridiculous. Though was it really any more ridiculous than my other option, which I'd avoided actually considering?

I looked around again, trying to convince myself that this really wasn't anything impossibly out of the ordinary. A cursory glance around the room confirmed that it wasn't mine. The violent hair coloring theory was losing its battle for likelihood.

I needed to come up with a better explanation. _Now._

_Okay, then it's a dream, _I told myself, grasping at straws._ It just has to be a dream._ Of course it was. Why hadn't I thought of that before?

That's right... because I was hungover and still a little drunk. Baka! God, I was never going to drink again...

_A dream. Right. I just need to wake up._

I pinched myself, with no results except an aching spot on my arm. I tried a few more times, until I realized that all I was doing was bruising an arm that didn't look much like mine either... even with the fresh bruises I'd inflicted upon it blossoming over pale skin.

_Dammit._

I needed a mirror or something. Where would he keep a mirror? I looked around the room helplessly.

It really shouldn't have been _that_ hard to find. Everything was in perfect order. _Everything_.

_God, this room's neat. It doesn't even look _lived _in._

It was undoubtedly _his_.

Who had time to organize things like this? Though now that I was really looking around, there wasn't much to keep track of. A couple of shinai in the corner. A stand for his daisho, holding only his wakizashi. A quick glance where I'd been sleeping confirmed the location of his katana. There was a tray for bandages. His unused futon.

And a stack of books in the corner, which I'd never seen him read. A new thought struck me as my brain slowly stopped drowning in the alcohol. _Could_ he read? I'd never asked him. But surname or not, I doubted he was samurai. And depending on what caste he was from, he may never have had reason to learn.

I don't know why that of all things would suddenly matter to me in my predicament, but I was suddenly struck with an odd pang as I realized how little I really knew about him. And that, even so, I still probably understood him better than most.

I shook my head, clearing it of these thoughts. _Worry about it later. Right now just find a mirror._ My eyes finally fell on the chest where I'd found the comb. I threw the lid open again with a clatter, and pulled out his sword polishing set, carefully setting it in front of me. Then I began digging through his clothes for the looking glass that I was certain I'd find.

There was a knock at the door, which didn't answer, too distracted by my frenzied search to bother with whoever was out there. If it was important, they'd come back.

I started yanking clothing out of the chest. The visitor was insistent, knocking again. I continued to ignore the sound, pulling out a hakama and a few kosode and tossing them to the floor. There was the tinkling sound of broken glass behind me where the hakama had landed.

I sighed. _Well, I guess I found his mirror._

Another knock, sounding more urgent somehow. "Just a minute!" I snapped, flinching at the sound of his voice slipping from my mouth as I scrambled to grab the remains of the mirror.

There was dead silence for a moment, finally followed by a soft, flat voice. "Ushiro-san?"

He had a distinctive way of speaking. A faint accent that made it clear that he wasn't from Kyoto, nor Choshu either. Although the voice in the hall had clearly been mine, I could immediately tell who had actually spoken. I didn't really need the mirror anymore, though I glanced at it anyway, confirming what I'd already known.

The reflection I saw in its damaged face was not mine. It was Kenshin's.

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_Author's note: Thanks for humoring me in my bit of insanity, and for reading this despite the horrible summary! ^ ^ ; This is called the result of three nights of **wicked** insomnia... I'm still working hard at "Crossroads", so don't worry that this means I've stopped (if you're reading that fic). I'm already about halfway through its next chapter. As to this one... updates are likely to be sporadic. It's just a little insanity to entertain myself while I work on other fics... I appreciate you reading it though. I also want to thank lolo popoki and sueb262 once again for their beta work! Thanks!_

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Turnabout  
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_**Chapter 2  
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_**Kenshin**_

I woke up feeling like I was going to be sick. I knew the reason and was irritated both with Ushiro, who had for some reason felt that last night he needed to get drunk, and with myself for actually _listening_ to him. I should have known better. I usually know better. But he'd said he needed someone to keep him from "doing something stupid" in that state. _And_, I admitted sourly, _he's one of those people who probably would._

I closed my eyes, trying to will away both the nausea and the headache which was now surfacing. _Why drink that much if you know what it will do to you? _I remember asking him last night. And his answer? He'd just replied, "Why not? It's been a lousy week."

I wasn't particularly surprised. I'd been getting used to this sort of thing in the past several months since Katsura had put us together. Ushiro didn't often think before he acted. I sometimes wondered if he even thought _after_ he acted. In fact, at times like this, I wondered if he thought at all.

Why _had_ he wanted to drink so badly? I didn't believe the "lousy week" argument. I knew that he wasn't stupid. If he knew he might lose control...

I frowned, puzzled. It didn't make sense, and I hated when things didn't make sense. Especially when I got dragged into it. What had been different about last night? I've seen him drink with others. Watched him stretch out one cup to last far longer than anyone else. Anyone with eyes had to notice how he never makes it through an entire bottle. He's more careful than any man I know when it comes to sake. I had a feeling that even _I _drank more than he did in a sitting, those times when I bothered to drink at all. I don't know what had changed for him last night.

However, his concern about drinking alone, the "stupid things" he might do... _That _I could see. As controlled as he is, he has a temper. If things are going fine, he's easy to get along with. Easy to be around. But when something goes wrong, when someone acts out inappropriately or when someone gets hurt, I can feel an angry, dangerous flare in his ki, which I don't like. If he could react like that when sober, then I wasn't surprised that he'd concern himself with the danger of alcohol destroying his self-control. I didn't want to think what he'd be like if he actually _acted_ on that temper...

Come to think of it, how _did_ he act last night? With a start, I realized that I had almost no memory of the night before.

I gritted my teeth. Not good. What had we _done_? I couldn't remember, which meant that we might have done something foolish. And we couldn't afford to make mistakes.

Why had I agreed to this?

I sighed, knowing the answer. Because I didn't want him to pick a fight with someone who'd kill him. He's the only one I can work with... And I don't need him getting hurt. Again.

But so many things might have gone wrong. What if I had said something last night? Something that could harm our cause? Or worse, could harm Katsura? The problem was that the right people, those in a position to act against the Ishin Shishi, would know who we were, or at least who we worked for. They would no doubt listen carefully for anything they could use against us. The only thing we had going for us as a cover was that neither of us were from Choshu, so we weren't identifiable the second we spoke.

Even so, between my hair and scar, I would be instantly recognizable to anyone who knew what they were looking for. Then again, so would Ushiro, with his height... And he talks so much. To _everyone_. Knows everyone, it seems. Though I have to admit, the few times he's dragged me out with him in the past, I'd noticed that he only said enough to be sociable, to put people's minds at ease around him. He somehow knew when to stop, and he always seemed to be able to get that little piece of information that we needed. I suspected that those times we'd gone out hadn't just been for fun; that he'd just failed to mention that he was bringing me along as his bodyguard. As exasperating as he could be, he certainly wasn't a liability. I could see why Katsura trusted him.

He'd make as good a spy as a guardsman. In fact, with his constant injuries, I was surprised sometimes that he _was_ a guardsman; why send out a man who comes back with a new injury after each run? Why not use him for his other skills?

But I knew the reason: because he was good. Not only with people, but with our missions. In public, he was friendly and open, but at work he was quiet, fast and efficient. He would die to protect his charge; even to protect me.

I couldn't figure out why someone like him would push his life so far.

All of this thinking was doing nothing for my headache. All it was doing was lulling me back into a half doze. I needed to get up and get sober.

I pushed myself up from the floor, hoping to clear my head. Maybe jog some memories. I shoved off the covers, readying myself to stand.

With that motion, I froze.

_Wait... Why am I on a futon?_ I looked around suspiciously. _Why aren't I in my room? Where am I?_ I looked for my katana, but it wasn't at my side. We'd been taken. I stood in a flash, stumbling briefly over the stupid pillow and wrenching my knee painfully. The sudden motion caused another sharp pain in my head, which I did my best to ignore. I steadied myself, displeased with that moment of imbalance. I felt slow and heavy. So, this was what it was like to be drunk. Or at least very hungover. I didn't like it. This would cause problems if we needed to fight our way out. I looked down at the mass of blankets and futon at my feet. My temporary imbalance had kicked the pillow out of the way just enough to expose a wakizashi. I picked it up to examine. Not mine.

Well, at least I wasn't completely unarmed. Small comfort. I wanted _mine._ But this was better than nothing.

Another glance around the room. Katana on its stand—also not mine. I'd best stick with the wakizashi for now. Window partially open, letting a single, bright bar of light in. A print on the wall. I stared at it a moment, my mind clicking into place. That trapped, panicked feeling ebbing. Okami had a print from the same artist in every room of her inn. This was one of them. I was still in the Kohagi. And I was still armed. Not captured, then. No need to figure out where Ushiro was and plan an escape.

Why am I in _here_ though? And why is the window so much lower in this room than in mine? Strange. Whose room...?

_Ushiro's. Has to be. _He probably just left me here last night when we returned. My grip tightened on what I now recognized as _his_ wakizashi. I wish I could remember where we'd gone. And I wish I knew where he'd put my daisho. Did he hide it? Did he _lose _it somehow? I could feel a muscle tighten in my jaw. I was probably going to kill him. Just as soon as I found my swords. Or maybe I'd just maim him with one of his own.

I tried to keep my thoughts under control. I just had to find them. It wouldn't be hard. He must have left them in here. They had _better_ be in here... What had possessed him to take my swords? He was right... He did _very _stupid things when he was drunk.

_If this is his idea of a joke..._

I sighed. Knowing him, it probably was. More than likely, I would have to find my daisho in this mess.

I examined the room again. Well, not really a _mess. _ There was clear order to everything. _His_ everything just happened to be more than _my_ everything. My swords were going to be a nightmare to find.

_Sometimes, I really hate you..._

Fine, I'll find my daisho. Then I'll find _him_ and figure out what we did last night.

My eyes roved the room. This was going to take forever. I hoped his headache was at _least _as bad as mine...

Deciding to start with the most logical hiding places, I moved toward his chest, hoping it would be that easy. I stepped over the blankets and to my surprise, a sharp pain in my stiff knee caused it to buckle, almost dropping me to the floor and making me stumble into the wall.

_I'm injured? _I'd just assumed that I was stiff from sleeping awkwardly. _What did I do to my knee? _He must have gotten us into a fight._ What did you drag me into _this_ time?_

I crouched down again, this time more careful of my injury, reaching for my yukata to see how well two drunken men had managed to wrap the knee. I stopped at the sight of my hands.

_What the...?_

They were large and tanned. My eyes traveled up muscled arms. Slowly, I brought my hand to my face, feeling stubble.

I involuntarily jerked away.

_What?_

That trapped feeling again. Only I wasn't trapped in the room this time. There had to be a logic to this, although I doubted I'd like it. And I was sure I knew whose fault it was. _What's going on? Am I dreaming? Or does this happen when you're drunk? _I wasn't sure. I'd never really gotten drunk before. I wracked my brain for a logical explanation. _Any_ explanation.

When nothing immediately came to mind, I stared down at my hands again. What else do you do when your body changes overnight? All I could think of was to stare at the parts I could see and try not to think much about the rest.

There was a scar. A jagged puckering of the skin, a shade or two lighter than the rest, running up my forearm from the left wrist. I'd seen that scar before...

Tentatively, I reached up again to run my fingers along my neck, then down my right shoulder, finally finding what I'd been looking for. Two more sets of scars. A present from Okita. I'd never been wounded by Okita.

Ushiro had. Twice.

This was impossible. But those scars... and this knee... I winced, knowing who _that _injury had come from as well.

That had happened months ago. It couldn't still hurt from _that_. Could it?

I looked down at it again, actually checking the injury this time. It was wrapped well, carefully supported. Obviously he'd taken care to make sure it was treated. Even so, it still hurt like hell. He'd sworn that it hadn't bothered him in ages, aching only a little in bad weather. I glanced out the partially opened window at the bright sunshine. The weather seemed pretty damn good to me.

_Liar..._

I stood again, glowering at the door. I was determined to talk with him now and clear things up.

I stepped carefully on the injured leg, cursing softly at its painful protest

And though I had a hundred insane thoughts buzzing around in my head, only one was breaking through.

_I can't believe you lied to me...

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_Author's Note: A big thanks to lolo popoki, sueb262, and Shirou Shinjin for their incredible beta work. (Trust me... this chapter **really** needed it). Also, a big thanks to my readers for following this story!_

_Dewa mata!_

_Sirius_


	3. Chapter 3

**Turnabout  
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_**Chapter 3  
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_**Ushiro**_

I was at the door in a minute, whipping it open. Face to face with Kenshin.

Well, sort of.

It was actually somehow creepier seeing him with my body than it had been seeing me with his.

He was pissed. _Well, there's a new one. _Not unusual for him to _be_ pissed with me, but he usually didn't show it. Maybe having my face gave him my facial expressions, too. I kind of hoped so. I didn't want to see that amber-eyed glare of his on my face. I had my limits, and we were already passing them.

I guessed he was pissed at _me_. Which wasn't a good sign. Especially since he probably had every right to be. I had a funny feeling that this was somehow my fault.

I motioned for him to come in, not really wanting to speak and hear his voice again. I had no problem with his voice, or even his strange looks, for that matter. But I didn't want to remind myself that I was suddenly borrowing them..

As soon as the door was shut, he snapped in a surprisingly accusing voice. "Your knee hurts."

_What the hell?_ "My what...? What are you-?"

He pointed at his knee as though I needed some kind of visual aid. I _knew_ what knee he meant. I wasn't stupid. I'd been dealing with it for _months _now. But what had possessed him to bring that of all things up at this moment?

"It hurts." He glared at me. "Badly. You lied to me."

I just stared at him. He had to be kidding. _This _was his big concern? My stupid _knee_? Personally, _I_ was far more upset about the reason he _knew_ I'd been lying to him.

I sat, motioning that he should do the same. He glared at me and after a moment's hesitation, came forward and moved to sit. Wincing at the stiff knee, he slowly eased himself to the tatami.

"Come on, Battousai-san. It isn't _that_ bad."

We both flinched at my voice.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His eyes were accusing. "If I'd have known you were injured so badly, I wouldn't have-"

"Wouldn't have _what_? I'm a soldier. What do you expect?" I shot him a sharp look as he opened his mouth to protest. "With all due respect, do you _get_ the actual problem here?" I couldn't take this. He was insane. "My hair is _red_, Battousai-san. _Red." _I took a handful of it, shaking it as though there were any possible way he couldn't have noticed. "Do you think I give a shit about my knee at the moment? I'm not going on about this cut on the face. Or that I lost over a foot in height. Or that my hair is _red_. So, leave off about my damn knee, already." I was breathing hard. "We have bigger problems to worry about."

We both sat in silence a moment, absorbing how bizarre such an angry outburst sounded coming from Kenshin's mouth. And how disturbing the cursing sounded, for that matter.

Finally, in the flat voice he reserved for moments when he was offended, Kenshin responded, "Maybe there's an explanation."

I brought my hand up, rubbing it over my face, wincing as my fingers brushed the scar on my cheek. "An explanation..." My eyes flicked up to meet his. "You think you can explain this?"

His eyebrows drew together. "Well... maybe we're still drunk..."

_Drunk. _That was his great explanation. We're still drunk. _And what? Hallucinating being in each other's bodies? _"We aren't still drunk," I replied quietly.

"You don't know that, Ushiro-san."

I leveled my gaze at him, and spoke slowly this time, enunciating each word. "We aren't drunk."

"We might be. It would explain a lot." He looked almost pleading.

"No, Battosuai-san" I replied through gritted teeth, trying my hardest to remain calm. "Trust me. I, of all people, could tell-"

"But how could you-?"

"_This doesn't happen when you're drunk!"_ I finally exploded, shutting him up. He stared at me, wide-eyed. I didn't blame him. I never snapped at him like this. I usually had much better control over my temper. But I'd finally hit my breaking point. And the poor kid wound up being my target.

I took a deep, steadying breath. I had to calm down. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I _did_ still have a little alcohol in my system, which was making me kind of unstable. I had to get my temper under control. This mess wasn't Kenshin's fault. Probably. And even if it was, we wouldn't have done whatever we did last night if _I_ hadn't pushed the plan to drink. Still...

"Battousai-san," I tried again, calmer this time. Trying to keep my voice level so he didn't withdraw. I'd noticed awhile ago that he disliked when people were angry, tending to shut down on them. And he seemed even more uncomfortable when _I _was the angry one. I didn't need to lose him. Especially not right now. "We aren't still drunk." One more deep breath, and I added thoughtfully, "Well, _I_ am a little. But _this_..." I grabbed a bright red lock of hair and waved it between our faces. "_This_ isn't 'drunk'. I've been drunk plenty of times before. And I've fallen to a far worse state than this. I _know_ what drunk feels like. And it _doesn't_ feel like _this._"

"Fine," he replied in a testy voice, for once sounding like the boy that he was. Only Kenshin would have to wind up in the body of a 26-year-old man to find his inner teenager.

And now I had to put up with his sulky silence.

"Kenshin?"

Nothing. He shifted uncomfortably, flinching slightly.

I sighed. "Kenshin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. This isn't your fault."

He blinked up—no... _down—_at me. _God, this is weird. _I twitched a little at that thought.

Finally, after a moment or two of sullen silence, he spoke again, a frustrated expression creeping onto his face once more. "Ushiro-san." He paused.

"Yes?"

"You still haven't told me why you lied about your knee."

My temper spiked again. I was going to kill him soon. Was he _ever_ going to get the real problem here? "I didn't lie," I muttered.

"You said it's fine."

I sighed. "It _is_ fine. For me, _that_ is fine. I can still use it with relatively little trouble. So, it hurts. I'm used to hurting. I get hurt all the time. I just sort of got used to it after awhile."

"You could have told me..."

Was he kidding? "The _hell_ I could! You have an overdeveloped sense of guilt. You don't get over _anything_. If I'd have told you, I'd _still _be listening to you go on about it." I forced myself to ignore the fact that I currently _was_ stuck hearing about him fuss over it. His concern was appreciated, but sometimes I think he forgot that I wasn't the only injured man here. Every one of us—other than Kenshin, of course—had been badly hurt at some time or another. We'd all been at death's door. I couldn't understand why he had to keep worrying about _my _stupid injuries. So, he was the cause of one them. It was months ago. I'd taken far worse in the past. I could think of a number of men who had.

_Why does he keep acting like I'm the only man who gets hurt around here? _

He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. "You'll be fine if you just keep it wrapped and don't strain it too much. Now, drop it, so we can try worrying about the small issue that you currently _have _my knee. I'd actually kind of like my injuries back. At least _they_ are _mine._"

He took a deep breath as though he were going to continue his protest, then exhaled, probably getting a solid look at my expression and thinking the better of it. He nodded tightly. "Fine. Later, then." Later wasn't what I'd been going for, but at least maybe that meant he'd focus on our more pressing concern. "What are we supposed to do about this?"

"What are we supposed to do...?" I repeated, staring blankly at him. _Does he think there's a damn _protocol _for things like this? Some sort of code of rules for when you accidentally drank too much and switched bodies with your friends?_ "How the hell am _I_ supposed to know what we're supposed to do? I don't even remember what we _did_ last night. All I remember is drinking more than I should have before you even started your first cup. Why don't _you_ tell _me_?"

A strange look passed over his face for a fraction of a second before vanishing. But it was there long enough to discomfort me. That had been an expression I hadn't seen on his face since his first hectic days here. I glanced down, noting for the first time how his hands were tightly clenched at his sides. And finally, now that I was actually paying attention, sensing something very off in his ki. I'd never seen him like this before, and I didn't like it. He looked like he was hitting his own breaking point. Worse, it didn't seem to be the situation itself that was pushing him there.

It was me.

His usually impassive mask was starting to crack, and that brief flicker in his expression had been uncomfortably close to fear. I'd always firmly believed with this boy, that any emotion, even irritation, which was my reaction of choice, was good for him. But fear... I didn't like that. I didn't know if he knew how to cope with it, and I didn't want to see him snap. For how hardened and emotionless he appeared on the outside—how cool and collected he seemed mentally—there was something fragile about him at the same time. I didn't want to see him break. Especially not because _I _was reacting poorly to the consequences of my own decisions.

I took a deep breath and stared down awkwardly at my own hands, unable to continue watching him peer out at me through my own eyes. "I'm sorry," I managed in a more subdued voice, adding again, "This isn't your fault."

He was silent for a moment before quietly responding, "We don't know that."

My head snapped up. "We don't?" I asked sharply.

His eyes widened at my abrupt response, though his voice remained flat. "Would you be angry with me if it _were_ my fault?"

I blinked at him. What? I was always irritated with _something_, usually myself, and I was often irritated with him. Like now, for instance. But when had I ever been _angry_ with him? Not even when he'd fought me... And why did he even care if I was? Sometimes I didn't get that kid.

"No, Battousai-san," I replied slowly. "I wouldn't. Anyway, it was _my_ idea to drink last night, so you couldn't take all the blame, even if you wanted to." I paused. "I guess I just assumed that you would remember what happened."

He seemed to relax, shaking his head. "No. I was hoping _you_ would. I drank more than usual." He paused, adding sheepishly, "I didn't think I drink much more than you did, but..." He trailed off.

I snorted. "You're a lot smaller than me... Well, you _were,_" I amended. "The alcohol probably hit you more quickly." I sighed, running my hand over my face. Ignoring how strange my now smooth chin felt. I'd been shaving for years. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'd been shaving at his age. Another thing for me to cope with. It was these little things that were bothering me. Like pebbles being placed one by one on my chest. In the end, it was the same as just dropping a boulder on me and being done with it, but this way the tension had time to gradually build before the last stone dropped and I broke.

I re-focused my thoughts on the problem at hand. Namely, the fact that we appeared to be screwed. _So, he drank as much as I did. He doesn't know what's going on either. _Worry was beginning to gnaw at the pit of my stomach. How do you reverse something when you don't even know how it started?

His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "We're going to have to speak to Katsura about this."

I looked up in surprise, meeting with dark eyes. "We're... what?"

He was staring at me, which was becoming unnerving. "Did you have a better idea?"

I bristled. "No. I don't have a better idea. But that doesn't mean I like _your_ idea. There has to be a way to deal with this without involving Katsura."

_Another pebble on the pile..._

"What choice do we have? Neither of us knows what happened. If Katsura doesn't find out about this, then what happens when he sends us out on a mission?"

I scowled. Shit. The kid had a point. I could already imagine some high ranking official forced into fighting to save his guards from their own stupidity. "Fine." I grumbled. "I'm not looking forward to explaining this to him, though."

Kenshin appeared surprised. "Katsura will have to understand. It isn't _our_ fault."

"No," I muttered, standing. "It isn't _your_ fault. I'm just saying that he's not going to like _my_ contribution. That's all."

"Ushiro-san—"

"Forget it," I replied gruffly. "Let's just get cleaned up. I'd rather get this over with as soon as possible."

He nodded, finally moving to stand.

"Watch the knee," I warned just as he almost put full weight on it.

He froze, then carefully stood, pushing himself up more carefully, his weight resting mostly on his good leg. I didn't miss the significant look he shot me, but I chose to ignore it, turning away. Finally, he said quietly, "I'll be back as soon as I'm ready." I heard him move toward the door.

"Battousai-san?" I glanced back in his direction.

He stopped. "Yes?"

"Make sure you remember to shave. It's not acceptable for me to face Katsura looking like that. You understand?"

He nodded, his expression strained. That odd look in his eyes again.

"And try not to slice my face up too much. I have enough scars as it is." I managed a weak smile, trying to take some of the bite out of my earlier harshness.

He nodded seriously once more before stepping out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Obviously my small attempt to ease the tense mood failed. I wasn't surprised. I was the one who had been building most of the tension, after all.

I stared at the door a moment, before turning back to the mess of clothes I'd left on his floor. I needed to start getting ready.

Untying my yukata, I tried to focus on that. On Kenshin. Even on the red hair that kept dropping into my face.

_Anything_ but the thought of explaining this to Katsura.

Because when Katsura heard about this, he was probably going to drop the stone that would crush me.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading and being patient with my random updates of both this and "Crossroads". Apologies for those of you who are currently reading "Crossroads" for the delay in updates. The chapter was complete and has been beta'd twice, but after re-reading it, I'm still not satisfied and am currently rewriting the whole thing. The bonus for you is that it will hopefully be a much better chapter. The downside is that you're going to have to wait a bit longer to read it. I'm sorry._

_Thank you for reading "Turnabout", though. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. More soon!_

_Dewa mata._

_Sirius:)  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

_**Kenshin**_

_I wish we weren't rushing to see Katsura. I wish we were planning this out... or at least requesting an audience first. Why does Ushiro have to _rush_ everything?_

I sighed, carefully shaving, trying very hard not to injure Ushiro's face. I'd already nicked him once. Only a small cut, so I was pretty sure he'd get over it. I frowned. Although he might lash out anyway. His temper was very near the surface right now, and he'd acknowledged that he could still feel the alcohol in his system. A good reason we should be waiting. I didn't like this. He needed to cool off before we spoke with our leader. I didn't want him to get himself into trouble.

I winced, cutting myself again. _Why_ was it so difficult to shave hair off of his face? I could do just about anything else with a blade. _Why_ couldn't I do _this_? Though I suspected it had less to do with my control of a blade and more to do with the fact that I was shaving an unfamiliar face with unfamiliar hands. Tense one muscle, move twice as far, half as quickly. It was confusing. And frustrating. I expected that the only reason I hadn't noticed this change while walking to and from my bedroom had been because I was trying to be so careful with his knee. Trying not to cause myself further pain and him further injury.

_Ushiro-san, why didn't you just tell me that your knee hadn't healed yet? I could have spoken to Katsura about it. You could have been put on guard duty longer until you were actually ready for assignments. _I sighed. I hoped that was the only problem. That he wasn't fully healed. I was worried that all of the walking he'd done the night I'd injured him had caused permanent damage. I clearly remembered the doctor warning of that possibility when I'd asked. Repeatedly.

_Why couldn't you just _listen_ to someone else for a change instead of being so _stubborn_?_

I sighed, _finally_ finished with the agonizing job of smoothing his face. _Then again, if you weren't so stubborn, you wouldn't be yourself, would you?_

And that brought our current problem back into sharp focus. How were we going to explain to Katsura that we were somehow, literally, no longer ourselves?

God, life would be so much easier if my Ushiro's strongest character traits weren't stubbornness and impatience. I paused, correcting myself. And courage. He certainly wasn't lacking in that, either. But _that_ got him—no, _us—_into as much trouble as anything else. As did his concern for everyone but himself. _That's _what got us into _this_ mess. The fact that he was fussing over me enough to force me go out drinking with him against my better judgment. It really was a wonder the man was still alive.

I stood carefully, using the wall for support as I eased myself up with my good leg. I'd have to figure out how he managed to do it without anyone knowing. I felt ridiculous having to use a support every time. Slowly, I made my way to the tray near the futon I'd rolled in the corner for him and found his comb, carefully pulling out tangles, and tying his hair up into a topknot. I picked up his katana, slipping the sword in its place at the himo of his hakama.

Ready.

I hoped _he_ was. He was the one who was in such a rush to get this over with, after all.

I walked to the door, sliding it open and slipping into the hall; then walked the short distance between our rooms.

I paused uncomfortably a moment at the door, feeling how strange it was to be requesting entrance into my own room. Softly, I knocked, not risking saying his name. Hoping I wouldn't have to. A few men were in the halls now, and I didn't want to risk saying Ushiro's name while in his body. We didn't need people to think he was talking to himself.

It turned out that I needn't have worried. The door slid open immediately, and he stepped out, sliding the door shut quietly behind him. I stared a moment, surprised. He had dressed exactly like I usually did. Pulling out the correct gi that I typically wore on days I didn't work. His hair up in the same way I wore it. Only my katana at his side. How had he noticed all of those details? It wasn't as though he'd have had any reason to note them.

He even had managed to cover his ever present grin with a darker, more serious expression, although after a moment's observation, I got the eerie feeling that the look on his face was a true expression of his own feelings. And it unnerved me. Ushiro was not in general a serious man known for dark moods. It didn't feel right to see his expression so tense. I hadn't seen that look since we'd both been facing death at Satsuma's hands. Yes, this was a tricky situation we were currently in, but was it really worth that degree of worry?

He looked me over quickly, his only quiet response being, "Good." He sounded tired. "You should have left the katana, though." He pointed to the blade at my side. "Katsura will notice that. I only carry a wakizashi inside. I can't control a katana in here." He rested his hand on my own blade. "I'm hoping I won't have to attempt yours while we're stuck like this."

I nodded. "Yes, Ushiro-san." I doubted the katana would make that much difference to our leader. Occasionally men carried it inside, when they were planning on leaving soon. But, I didn't point that out to him. I was distracted by his tone of voice. "Is something wrong, Ushiro-san?"

He stared at me a moment, managing a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm in your body, Battousai-san," he responded softly. "I don't think we can get more 'wrong' than that." He motioned briefly down the hall. "Let's go get this over with."

I followed him to Katsura's meeting room in silence, wondering at this change that had come over the man. I didn't like any of this. At all. His ki was steady but tense. Intense enough to be bleeding into my own mood. It was stifling. This was different than with Satsuma, after all. This wasn't a fear, only a tired concern and a dark mood. Something I'd expect from anyone now and then. We all had those moods.

But I'd never before noticed it in Ushiro. Not once.

I stepped forward, lifting my hand to knock, when he shook his head and raised his own to stop me. "No. If he hears _your_ voice, he's more likely to let us in. Even if he's busy."

_Really? Did he think I had some special pull with our leader? That didn't even make sense._

He reached to the door and knocked with one sharp rap. "Katsura-san?"

A brief pause, and a response. "Himura-san." Silence for a moment. "Now isn't the best time. I trust this is important."

"Yes."

More silence. Followed by Katsura's mild, but abrupt response, "Come in then."

Ushiro slid the door open and entered, bowing deeply to our commander. I followed suit, sliding the door shut behind us. We both knelt before him.

Katsura sat at his table, his tea bowl and a large map set before him. His eyes traveled first to Ushiro, then to myself where they remained a moment. "Both of you?" He asked mildly, taking a sip of his tea. His eyes remained on me a moment longer. Setting the bowl down, he added. "And more heavily armed than usual," he motioned to the katana at my hip. "Is there a reason for that?"

I glanced at Ushiro. _Damn. I hate it when he's right._ A faint smile twitched at his lips, making him almost appear like his usual self. It faded quickly.

"Katsura-san," I replied softly, "we have a problem. We were hoping you could help." _Why does he keep staring at me like this?_

He nodded, carefully rolling the map, removing it from the table and setting it to the side. "A problem."

"Yes, Katsura-san." I replied.

Ushiro simply nodded, his eyes roving uncomfortably around the room.

Katsura studied us, taking another sip from the tea bowl, and finally setting it aside as well. "And can I assume that this problem has something to do with Ushiro-san's sword? Or the fact that Himura-san will not make eye contact with me, while Ushiro-san responds so politely?"

Ushiro's head snapped in our commander's direction. "Katsura-san? How—?"

The older man's sharp eyes were serious. "Or the fact that Himura-san has taken a Tosan accent?"

Ushiro fell silent, exchanging a glance with me. "You know?"

Our commander shook his head. "I only know what's in front of my face. What I'd _like_ to know is _how_."

Ushiro broke eye contact once more, forcing _me_ to respond. _I'll have to return the favor later, _I thought sourly. Taking a deep breath, I replied, "We aren't exactly sure. But..." I hesitated. "Somehow, when we woke up..." How to explain this realistically? "When I woke up I wasn't in the right room. We drank a little last night..." I paused, embarrassed. "Well, a lot... And, It's difficult to explain, Katsura-san, but—"

"We woke up in each other's bodies," Ushiro broke in, still staring intently at the window behind Katsura. "We somehow switched bodies. It doesn't make sense, but that's what happened. We were hoping you could help. Somehow."

I shot a glare at him. At least he had explained succinctly. But had it been necessary for him to be so abrupt. In _my_ body?

Katsura said nothing, reaching for his tea and sipping at it again.

"Katsura-san?" I asked quietly, hoping for a response. Even a simple _acknowledgement _that we'd spoken.

Apparently Ushiro had finally snapped out of his quiet mood, because he didn't even bother waiting. "Katsura-san, did you hear any of that?"

Our commander set his teacup down with a sharp clink, his eyebrow twitching briefly. "Of course I heard it."

Ushiro's eyebrows raised. "And?"

"And..." His voice was the sort of calm that always made me uncomfortable. Like the calm before a storm. "And do you honestly expect me to believe that you two got _drunk_ and switched bodies?"

I winced at how ridiculous it sounded when put so bluntly.

Ushiro, however, didn't seem to care. "With all due respect, Katsura-san, you're having trouble believing _this_, but Kenshin traveling through _time_ was no problem?"

I just stared at my partner. Had he lost his mind? What on earth was he _talking _about? "Traveling through—"

I wasn't given a chance to finish. Both Ushiro and Katsura snapped, "Forget it," leaving an almost tangible tension in the air.

Ushiro still more drunk than I'd thought. That was the only explanation. And Katsura really didn't need to know that. Already, he was earning an uncomfortably sharp look from our commander.

I broke in before Ushiro could say anything to get himself into worse trouble. "Katsura-san, please. You have to help us."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you expect _me_ to do about it?"

I looked down at my folded hands. "I was hoping you'd be able to answer that, Katsura-san."

He sighed deeply, and I glanced back up at him. He was rubbing his temples, eyes closed. "I'm getting tired of the horrible things that happen when you two are around," he muttered under his breath.

I blinked, startled at the comment, "Katsura-san?"

"So you started drinking and 'switched bodies'?"

We nodded.

Katsura sent us both an assessing look. His eyes fell on Ushiro and remained there as he sent my partner a penetrating look. "And whose idea was _that_?" It was obvious that he already knew.

Ushiro was staring straight ahead, not appearing to be looking at anything. Just staring. "It was mine, Katsura-san."

That strange twitch of the eyebrow again, though our commander didn't appear surprised. I wouldn't have been either, in his place. Ushiro acted before thinking. Not always a bad thing, but certainly not always good either.

I _didn't_, however,expect Katsura's immediate reaction. His voice was sharp and cold. His expression hard. "You are _not_ to start drinking again, Ushiro-san. I have been clear on this before. You know what the consequences are. I am not tolerating a recurrence of past behavior. Is this understood?"

_Past behavior? Again?_ I turned to look at Ushiro who was kneeling stoically, still making eye contact with no one. "Of course, Katsura-san. I gave you my word, and I meant it. This was a lapse in judgment."

I stared, puzzled, the current exchange lost on me. Many of the men drank. Several, on their off days drank a lot. Though Katsura disapproved, I had never heard of him repremanding any of them so harshly. And now, even though I had drunk as much as Ushiro, only he got the lecture...

_"Again," _Katsura had said... Had this happened before?

Ushiro's stiff response, seemed to be enough for Katsura-san for the moment. His expression was still dark, and his eyes lingered on Ushiro-san a moment longer before he responded, "What did you two do last night? Besides _drink_?"

Ushiro shook his head. "Neither of us remembers, Katsura-san. We've tried working it out already. We couldn't, and that's why we came to you."

Katsura sighed. "Did you at least have enough sense to stay _here_? Can you remember _that_ much?"

I shook my head, wincing, feeling my stress over this whole situation hitting a peak. Ushiro responded, "Yes" at the exact same time I replied tensely, "No. We left."

He turned to stare at me, eyes widening, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wait... _no_? You didn't tell me that! Why the hell did we leave the inn?"

And his outburst was my breaking point. I hadn't even realized I was so close or else I would have controlled myself better, but it was too late now. "I don't _know_! I just remember leaving. I got drunk after that, remember? Why do you think I've been so upset over this?"

"I _thought_ it might be because we switched _bodies_!"

"_Enough_!" Katsura's voice silenced us, and we both turned to him, appearing, I'm sure, like two children being caught bickering by our father. His hands were palms down on the table, there was an irritated flash in Katsura's eye that I'd never seen before. "Arguing isn't going to solve anything. If you even want a chance to fix this problem, you're going to need to work it out together, because right now I can only think of one solution."

I leaned forward eagerly, uncertain as to why Ushiro just covered his face with his hand.

"You can both go back to your rooms and get drunk again."

"_Katsura-san_!" I burst out, losing it completely. This was too much. "Are you _serious_?"

Ushiro unexpectedly whapped me upside the head. "Of course he isn't," he snapped. But at Katsura's lack of agreement, he shot our commander a suspicious look. "You aren't, are you? Not with me, at least?"

I glared at Ushiro, not even waiting for the answer. "You _hit_ me," I snapped.

"You should be grateful that it was _you_ smacking you rather than _me_ smacking you. I'm bigger than you... usually," was his only response.

I shot him a vicious glare, rubbing the back of my head. "I could make _you_ smack _you_." The man was impossible sometimes.

Katsura cleared his throat, reminding us of his presence, and causing us both to fall silent. "You have approximately one week to figure something out. Otherwise you're going out together on a mission in whatever shape you find yourselves in at that time, and you can figure out how to fight between the two of you... I need my best to run someone out of Kyoto. Soon."

I'd have sworn I heard him mutter under his breath, "Unfortunately _this_ is my best." But I was too stunned to respond. By the sound of it, we had less than a week to get this worked out. And not even Katsura knew how to do it...

* * *

_Author's Note: Gasp! Shock! Yes, I updated something that isn't from "Sorcerer's Apprentice". I'm still alive in the Kenshin fandom! I promise I didn't desert, but after watching "Sorcerer's Apprentice" twice (and falling in love with Balthazar Blake), my muse has been a bit split. So bear with me. I'll be swinging back and forth for awhile._

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. A big thanks to lolo popoki, sueb262, and Shirou Shinjin for their beta work. And a big thanks to all of you for reading (and maybe reviewing) ^ _ ^;_

_Dewa mata._

_Sirius_

_P.S. Almost forgot. For those of who are fans of "Charlie the Unicorn" on youtube... I have a little tribute to the Charlie saga in here. Katsura's comment about the horrible things that happen when when those two are around was actually a quote from Charlie when referring to the blue and pink unicorns. Sueb262 pointed out how appropriate it would be, and I was amused with the idea enough to add it._

_Enjoy. Or at least, don't hit me with anything!  
_


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